


Blue

by childhoodlight



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 07:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4995211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childhoodlight/pseuds/childhoodlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She looks up, and there he is, having just opened the door and entered, eyes sad like a wounded puppy. Like Blue. He does not say a word. He doesn't have to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Do not hesitate to leave feedback! It keeps me writing, haha...

The tension in the air is palpable and cold against her skin as she walks toward her trailer after finishing the last scene of the day. Five weeks into this fight and they're still not on speaking terms when not in character. She lights a cigarette as she crosses the set, her hands shaking. It's fucking cold.

She hears footsteps behind her, recognises the sound, and sighs.

She doesn't slow down and he does not try to catch up with her, only keeps walking a few stepsbehind her, silent and moody. There's depression in his eyes today, dark stones that refuse to show her anything other than sadness.

She feels the anger flash within her but doesn't say anything. Inhale, exhale, black smoke in aging lungs.

"Hey," he says behind her, and she slows down, allowing him to fall into step beside her.

"Hey," she answers nonchalantly, refusing to meet his eyes.

"What's up?" he says, as if they're not in the middle of one of these infamous fights of theirs, in which they slowly break the other down, always forcing the other to suffer as much as possible, leaving the rest of the crew speechless and helpless. They're a raging tornado of too many feelings. During weeks like this, they destroy everything in their way, everything that is not in absolute need of professionalism, everything that is not within the separate world of Mulder and Scully.

She ignores him and keeps walking, afraid of her own feelings.

"Gill?" he asks, and his voice is dry and chilly, just like the air around them.

"Just... you don't have to pretend, David. Okay, fine you're speaking to me again, great. Great. Great." She does not know why she repeats the word. Her brain feels strangely empty.

He doesn't answer and she dares a look. His eyes are wounded.

"Come on, cut the crap," she says with undertones of venom. She's reached her trailer. "Bye."

She opens the door and enters, quickly closing the door. Exhausted, she throws herself onto the bed, asleep before her head hits the pillow.

 

xxxx

 

She's not really aware of her surroundings yet, but it's quiet, apart from a distinctive noise. The door opening. She slowly forces her eyelids to open, feeling comfortable beneath warm sheets. She has somehow managed to strip down to her undershirt whilst asleep. She wonders for how long she's been out, only remembers closing the door in his face.

She looks up, and there he is, having just opened the door and entered, eyes sad like a wounded puppy. Like Blue. He does not say a word. He doesn't have to.

Slowly, he shrugs out of his jacket and approaches her bed. He crawls across the mattress until he is right behind her and she can feel his breath on her neck. She shivers. He makes his way into her warmth beneath the sheets and his arms find their way around her body, enveloping her, his entire body spooning her. She feels how he buries his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. She knows she's angry and hurt and mad and so very tired of this, but she can't help but put her hands on his arms, letting him come closer. She cannot helping feeling a tiny hint of relief run through her body.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and she barely hears it. She tries to swallow down her feelings,

"It's fine," she whispers back. He hugs her closer to him.

"No, it's not," is all he says and now there's a burning venom in her throat and she desperately tries to hold back a tear from slipping down her cheek.

 _No, it's not fine_. She knows this. His lips ghost across the skin on her neck, warm and alive.

_She's not fine when he suddenly throws her a look of hatred across the room. She's not fine when he'll refuse to meet her eyes for hours on end. She's not fine when every word he says is criticism of the worst kind. She's not fine when he takes out every feeling of every fibre of his body on her. She's not fine when he won't allow himself to be open with her. She's not fine._

She sighs loudly, feeling her body going limp. She lets her fingers wander up and down his muscled arms. She lets her own body press itself backwards against his.

"I'm fucked, Gill," he whispers and relief flows through her veins because finally fucking finally he lets her in.

"I'm fucked. I need to get out of here."

They both know he can't because there's contracts and money and a job that needs to be done, an entire world dependent on what they do here 18 hours a day, working working working, isolation and rain and cold and loneliness, Mulder and Scully imprinted on their skins like scars.

"I haven't slept in days," he says, voice vibrating against her body,"I don't sleep anymore." His voice breaks on the last word. How desperate he is. She hadn't realised.

Slowly, she manages to turn around in his arms. The sheets stick to her body in uncomfortable ways, but she manages to turn around so that they are facing each other. His hands settle on her back, arms around her, while one of her hands settle on his cheek.

"Then sleep here," she says, trying to make it sound as simple as that. She sees the clear bags underneath his eyes now, blue bruises in contrast to the green of his eyes.

He looks at her hesitantly, biting his lip. "But I hurt you. All the time. I hurt you and--"

"Schh." She puts a finger against his lips. "It doesn't matter. Not now. Let's not talk about it," She smiles sadly and continues, "we probably both know that no matter what, I can't help myself when it comes to you."

He almost, almost, not really, smiles back, a little nervously, "you can't?"

"No. You're in pain, David. It's weird but... when you're angry... I...." she trails off, not sure if she can continue, not sure if perhaps this is too private a statement to say to him, too vulnerable and open and honest for his liking.

But his eyes urge her on, a spark evident in them for the first time in weeks.

"What, Gill?"

"Well..." she begins, and her voice drops to deep mumble, "when you're feeling like this... I can feel it in my entire body. It's like I've become so attuned to you now that I... I feel it, you know, or, well, I-I don't know what I even mean." She stops herself, biting her lip, and before she knows it his lips are on hers. Her entire body springs to life, awakened by his closeness and openness and the enormous relief making its way through her warm limbs, and she just wants him closer.

"Closer," she gasps in between kisses and lets her hands wander along his muscled back, trying to pull him closer still. But suddenly the kiss becomes salty and she realises he's crying. She wills herself to calm down, wills herself to stop wanting to rip his shirt off, lets her roaming hands slow down. She pulls back a bit, eyes locking with his, and she can feel her cracks in her heart, matching those in his. His face is still and handsome, but his eyes watery and aching.

"Oh David," she says as he buries his face against her neck. She holds on to him for a while, hiding herself against his body in-between warm sheets in her trailer in a rainy town in Canada. Hiding from it all, if just for a little while.

Two minutes, and his breathing evens out against her. He's asleep and she's finally feeling a little closer to fine again.


End file.
